


Evil in the Beginning

by Grondfic



Category: The Lord of the Rings - All Media Types
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-18
Updated: 2015-05-18
Packaged: 2018-03-31 04:42:40
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,440
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3964777
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Grondfic/pseuds/Grondfic
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Set in the same universe as <i>Hope for the Uruk</i>, this is a not-quite sequel giving more of Shagrat's backstory. Should be read <span class="u">after</span> <i>Hope for the Uruk</i>.</p>
<p>Warnings for violent content and Orc-talk. Also maybe wiser not to read just before, or just after, a meal</p>
<p>A neighbourly dispute in South Ithilien leads to a possible greater understanding between two mutually hostile parties.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Evil in the Beginning

* * * *

_“For nothing is evil in the beginning. Even Sauron was not so.”_ (Elrond in “Fellowship” [book])

_“Looks like meat’s back on the menu, boys!”_ (Ugluk in “Two Towers” [film])

* * * *

Legolas Greenleaf possessed the keen eyesight characteristic of his people; but right now he didn’t relish what he was seeing.

The woods of South Ithilien were winter-bare; and through the empty branches he could perceive the couple shagging beneath one of the ilexes by the Osgiliath crossroads quite clearly.

Legolas had thought he’d terminated Aragorn’s inexplicable obsession with that filthy Uruk Shagrat, via a well-placed arrow; but no! The bastard had survived – returned to Middle Earth by Mandos himself, and made whole by his lover. 

It ill-behoved the King of the West – to whom Legolas had given personal allegiance, and who was wedded to the fairest of Elven kind - to be out rutting against a tree trunk like a common peasant. And with that abomination from Cirith Ungol to boot!

The Orkish garrison at the old tower was causing Legolas and his fledgling colony of Eldar a great deal of trouble. It was all very well for Prince Faramir – bound to the King by a life-debt – to look sheepish and say that some of those lads were doughty fighters who had done sterling work in clearing the pass of that nuisance of a Spider. Having the dull ear and unopened senses of his kind, he was untroubled by that … that …. Ceremony the Uruk indulged in, every full-moon. It disturbed the old ones amongst Legolas’ group, and stirred up the Elflings. Some of these youngsters had taken to hanging around the gates of the tower; reappearing with secretive looks, often sporting some item of ugly, iron Orc jewellery. If it carried on, he was going to have to speak to the King, even though he doubted he’d get much satisfaction.

The couple below him unglued themselves from the tree, and from one another. The smaller figure then did a hasty cleanup operation, disappeared into the ilex grove to un-tether his horse, led it out, paused for a final embrace, mounted, and rode off westwards.

The big Uruk stopped by the tree for a lavish piss; then turned slowly, fastening his britches and straightening the fine cloth of his midnight-blue tunic.

“’s alright, Cupcake! You c’n quit skulking and fucking show yourself now! You might’ve embarrassed the little King, but you don’t fucking bother me!”

Legolas nocked an arrow to his strung bow, and walked cautiously down the slope towards the big Uruk, who stood regarding him with contemptuous indulgence.

“You scared of something, little one?”

“No!” Legolas’ voice was steady, “But unlike the King, I shall never trust an Uruk.”

“Then you’ll never get to fuck one either,” replied Shagrat equably, “Put that little sticker away if y’want to talk. I won’t deny it ain’t my favourite sight.”

“Frightened, monster?”

“Nah, after Lord Mandos, you’re a bit of a let-down. I just get a pain in me back lookin’ at it, is all,” admitted Shagrat, “You got any real business with me, then? ‘Cos if not, I’ve got a Tower to run.”

“I suppose it’s no use me telling you to stop corrupting the King?”

“No use at all,” said Shagrat, his green eyes glinting with humour and just a hint of a warning, “He’s gonna save us all – me and the lads. And besides – “ he added looking at his booted toes, “I love ‘im. That it, then?”

“Yes!” said Legolas angrily, and watched as the Uruk, shrugging, pulled on a Lorien cloak and turned to go.

“No – wait!” 

Shagrat paused, one craggy eyebrow raised.

“Well? Invitation to fucking afternoon tea, is it?”

“No. And stop baiting me, or you’ll feel this arrow again. It’s about your monthly orgies at full-moon. They’re a nuisance. They upset the elders and cause the youngsters to run mad. Can’t you ….?”

“Can’t we – what? Keep the noise level down? Or go away? No to both. You’re just fucking jealous in case we’re having a better time than you lot. And if you really think they’re only orgies, you must have fucking limited mental awareness, Legolas Thranduilion!”

Legolas broke eye-contact, blushing. The accusation had been an inaccurate cheap shot – he knew that.

“But you must know,” he stammered, “That if you send out distance calls, the nearest group of Eldar are the most likely recipients!”

“Course we do!” agreed Shagrat with a wide, fanged grin, “But – you bein’ so full of fucking wisdom – we assumed y’could … I dunno .. put up blocks or somepin’ an’ protect the cubs. I’m fucking surprised you’re not up to it, to be honest!”

“We’re a working colony, not Masters of Wisdom,” muttered Legolas, “Those sort all left on the Last Ship.”

“Then you’ll have to put up with it! Y’ought to come along one full-moon, Cupcake! You might fucking learn somepin’!”

“Learn? From the Uruk-hai? Only how to live lower than pigs!”

The big Orc drew himself upright from his usual slouch, adding several inches to his impressive height. Legolas braced himself, knife suddenly in hand; but Shagrat merely folded his massively long arms across his broad chest. He was not, Legolas perceived, enraged.

“Yeah, that may be so,” he conceded gravely, “But I’d have you consider, Legolas Thranduilion, how we got into that fucking state; and where we first began.”

“Blood traitors and kinslayers!” hissed Legolas, a comforting feeling of loathing pervading him.

“Listen, little Cupcake, there’s stuff you do just to fucking survive! Oh, I know; I know! You’re gonna throw the Companions of Felagund into my face. Death before dishonour and all that. But .." the big Uruk hesitated, “ … you hafta understand how it was for us .. back beyond anything you children would know. Back before Anor and Isil. Back before Valinor, even …”

“How was it?” the question was out before Legolas could catch up with his tongue.

“Since you ask, Cupcake, I’ll fucking show you … and then let’s hear you whingeing on about kinslaying ….”

Legolas felt Shagrat’s mind reach out to his; enter and infiltrate his; permeate it with the Uruk’s memories. He could no more resist this than he could the call of the sea ……

* * * *

_Elen-Kalarë was dying. Phuineől had felt her feä trying to slip its fetter ever since the last gang-rape; and now experienced only dull relief that her torment would soon be over. He wondered vaguely how long he and Taragwe could last beyond her; and felt a fettered, impotent anger that he would never again see the fullness of Arda’s starlight._

_Already he was marred beyond the scope of his body’s ability to repair itself. The Tormenting Shadows had done something to his eyes so that now he saw only darkness to his right; and vague flickers of aggravating movement through the twilight to his left._

_He knew they’d mutilated Taragwe also – lopping off bits of limb, like breaking a tree. All three Eldar had long been suffering pangs of hunger and thirst, so that they had almost ceased to regard them._

_Phuineől lay at the bottom of the filthy pit and wished that he had those oddly corporeal Tormenting Shadows under his hand – and that he was whole and imbued with his full strength. He would like to requite them for their treatment of him – and of the others of course._

_He moved feebly, assailed suddenly by visions of delectable feasts on the starlit shores of The Big Water. He would need sustenance if he was going to survive .._

_Somewhere deep within, his traitor body took the decision which his beleaguered feä was unable to contemplate. He would live – and in this body – no matter what the cost! He would survive to end those Tormenting Shadows in just the same way as they had hurt him and his friends. No more of his people would be ensnared this way! He must live to stop it – once and for all._

_He needed food! This barren place could offer no bounty, such as Arda gave constantly to its children. What could he do?_

_His body again answered for him. It used his keen sense of smell, and the mind-sense, to guide him to his unsteady feet, and across the two steps necessary to stand over Elen-Kalarë’s supine body, and fumbled for the little knife he’d hidden (how long ago?) in his loincloth._

_His brain continued supplying useful information, and prompting the reluctant body into action. He should take from the buttocks, where most of the flesh remained. He should do it now, before the feä finally loosed its tenuous hold. Elvish cadavers did not linger very long once the feä had departed, dislimning fast into dust. Perhaps he should take enough for Taragwe too .._

_He writhed in disbelief as his hands busied themselves with the knife and Elen-Kalarë. Working mainly by touch, they carved and sliced; and when those hands held a dripping morsel to his lips, he ate obediently. Feeling a new, hot strength course through him, he closed his inner ear to the shrill din of agony, and cut more meat; staggering over to where the flickering pulse of Taragwe’s life beat out its feeble proof of existence._

_* * * *_

_Gorthaur watched the little comedy with intense interest. How tenacious the little thing was proving to be! He drew a deep orgasmic breath as his senses rimmed the pit, brimful of delicious hatred, and guilty enjoyment of forbidden food._

_“This goes well, sweetling!” the Shadow Who had crept up on him caressed his nape with gentle, insistent claw-tips, “Take the two males from the pit and rebuild them. Give that one back his eyes, so that they shall always be his one beauty in the midst of his foulness. For the other – graft and re-grow! I’m sure you can accomplish something appropriate, my talented little cat. Oh – and get him a new dong, will you? We need good breeding stock!”_

_Gorthaur thrilled to his Lord’s touch, leaning back to press himself against that knowledgeable body which had seduced him away from Valinor, to this rutting world of soil and sweating bodies. The Lord’s dusky words reverberated through him, vibrating him like a tuned harp. He loved the way the Lord’s voice shaped terrible obscenities with exactly that same singing perfection that had helped shape Iluvatar’s creative Impulses._

_“The female is breeding, Lord. I must remove the embryo to a safer vessel before her feä slips its leash, or the males devour it out of her womb.”_

_“Excellent, my sweet one, my precious. Do it! Do it quickly, and then rejoin me! I find I grow lonely amongst the Lesser Ones. Come to me soon, little cat, or I may be forced to come and find you …!”_

* * * *

Legolas staggered backwards, letting the bow drop from his fingers whilst he clutched at his chest, and retched up nothing.

“It went downhill from there!” announced Shagrat, straight-faced.

“How could you … how ….? How did you live, having done .. and seen … and suffered?”

“Oh, you kinda get into the habit of surviving. It’s what the fucking Big Bosses relied on in making us, y’see. They lost a lot of us each time we died. Someone was sure to find a way to slip the net they set up to catch our feär. ‘Cept us, of course; and others like us. Me and Taragwe, we stayed: me because I’d done that stuff and I wasn’t gonna let it go to fucking waste (if you can understand that!), and Taragwe because – well he owed me big time! I’d saved his fucking life, hadn’t I?” 

“But .. but those were good impulses!”

“Course they were, little Cupcake! How’d you think the Big Bosses caught most of their slaves and followers? Even – “ the Uruk shivered suddenly, “some of The Nine! So, there it is – me and Gorbag, we shuffled on down, Age by fucking endless Age, until I finally finished up killing him over the Ringbearer’s pretty shirt! Skai!” 

Shagrat spat into the undergrowth, shook himself and picked up Legolas’ fallen bow and arrow.

“Well, I gotta go!” he announced, handing the weapons back, “Can’t stop here all day telling stories to fucking ignorant Cupcakes who haven’t even got enough of their own folks’ wisdom! I’ll see ya around, I expect.”

“Wait! You haven’t told me what the Ceremony is about yet!”

“Oh, that! Well, y’see, all us lot in the Tower have got similar stories! We’re the guys who toughed it out to the bitter end. We’re the few of our kind who still have a fucking feä – or what passes for one anyway. So we’ve gotta remember it all and wash it all out. Living in lots of bodies, the way we did – you forget stuff; but it’s all there – hidden away, waiting to ambush you on a dark night. You should come and join us, little Cupcake. You may learn somepin’!”

“What? Live through everyone’s …? And what about the orgies?”

“Your young’uns got more guts than you do!” announced Shagrat with contempt, “THEY see fine that this is part of their heritage too! They’re learnin’ stuff you’d never think of! You got some good kids there, y’know! Y’ought to ASK them about it, not keep punishing them when they visit!”

“Alright!” retorted Legolas, stung, “I WILL come next full-moon! Does the king know about the Ceremony?”

“Course he does! He’s our Sharkū! If he was with us all the time, he’d be leadin’ us. As it is, we let Fim do it ‘cos he connects most easily … Sha! I can’t explain that – y’ll have to come and see!”

“Until next full-moon then!” said Legolas, extending a hand in promise.

“You betcha!”

* * * *

Shagrat watched as the Cupcake slipped away. To human vision he would have faded quietly into the landscape; but Shagrat’s green eyes could still make out clearly, his graceful retreat up the slope.

The Uruk grinned to himself as he set off towards the mountains. He’d neatly avoided explaining the orgiastic elements in the Ceremony. The Cupcake – no Master of Wisdom after all – had picked up on the fact of them, but not the inner empowerment within the Ceremony.

It was like creating a group-mind: Shagrat thought: so that they could all experience each individual’s memories.

And with minds joined, what could bodies do but follow suit? He himself was promised to the little King, of course, but the others – especially Mahaúr and Plurtz, the ex-White Hand hybrids – always whined at him afterwards because he insisted that any Elf-cubs should be left outside once things hotted up. But, with a fully-mature male Elda, he need have no such scruples.

It was going to be a fun Full Moon next time around!


End file.
